Page 39 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

Lyra

The Loopholes

C arver told me to take my time, that he'd wait outside for me to be ready. The second he excused himself from the room, I fell to my knees on the dirty yellow rug. I wasn’t sure what emotion was hitting me, because they all became so much that I just froze in place.

What in the ever-loving fuck was Carver thinking when he came here and took it all? How much did he know? How much did he guess? Did he see Chet when he came and got everything? Did Chet say anything, if so?

Being in my room felt suffocating as a teen, and it was no different now that I was twenty-seven.

Instead of trying to sort through my mess of a mind, I decided pushing it away was still best. Before I walked out through my old bedroom door, I tossed a final glance back at the walls, the bed, the rug.

It had all once been the closest thing I had to a safe space in the house, but years ago, that changed.

I wanted to burn the whole place down and forget any of it existed.

Air rushed back into my lungs when I stepped outside and saw Carver leaning against the hood of his truck, typing away on his phone in nothing but a pair of jeans.

I’d been so distraught over the possibility of losing my collection that I hadn’t noticed he not only had no shirt on, but also, no shoes.

His hair was a mess, as if his fingers had ripped through it all morning, and beneath his eyes sat a darker shade of color that looked like it came from more than just lack of sleep.

I blinked as the image of him shifted in my mind—younger, no tattoos, less facial hair, and slightly more maintained brown locks.

My chest ached at the thought that this was what Carver probably looked like when I left him.

I’d had my reasons, but never allowed myself to hear what his side was.

So much had happened that night that it all started to blur together.

I wore my hatred for him and all men like a badge of honor, but look how far that had gotten me.

I ran away, just like my mother.

I’d made one solid friend since then, but stayed to myself until I needed something.

I skirted by on the tips of my toes, constantly at the mercy of how far my appearance could get me before the men I leeched from realized I would never put out.

For some, that was mere minutes. Others lasted a few days—a week, at best.

And then there was Carver. Miles and hours away, but his mind had been on me, while I’d spent my time trying to erase him from mine.

“Idiot,” I scorned myself as I made my way to him, dodging overgrown weeds and litter that scattered the lawn. The hand holding his phone fell to his side, all of his focus shifting to me with my last steps.

“Done?” he asked, a faint smile gracing his beautiful features.

“Well, for now”—I glanced over my shoulder at the dilapidated house—“I think so.”

“I didn’t bring any gasoline, little Ly.”

“Huh?”

He smirked as I turned back to face him, then tipped his chin toward the house. “To burn it. You have that look”—his finger circled in front of his eye—“you had when you were burning my furniture.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. Never liked that set, anyway. I do miss my pillow, though. Think you can buy me a new one in a few weeks?”

I scowled and smacked his arm. He laughed.

“Jerk,” I muttered as a smile fought its way through. “I’ll replace that, and the chairs. Before I go, I mean.”

Carver stiffened at my words. Hell, I did, too. Everything kept fuckin’ slipping out from my lips without a filter, which was normal, but not at all helpful when my mind couldn’t settle on what it wanted.

“So, you were leavin’ then, this morning?” His voice shifted completely, darkening like his eyes. “Or, was this all part of some grand plan to see how far I’d go to catch you?”

“What?”

His fingers were around my throat in seconds.

“I can’t take the games anymore, Lyra.” He pulled me closer, but his grip was noticeably soft.

“The man you got last night thought that was all over with. But, you still”—his jaw worked, eyes darting around my face, then falling to my stomach.

Suddenly, he released me and turned, slamming a fist down on the hood of his truck. “Fuck!”

“Carver, I don’t…I don’t understand. I didn’t leave town again.”

“You still left.” He hung his head, bracing his body on the hood. “You weren’t there when I woke up. I showed you what we could be, and here you are, talkin’ about leavin’ all over again.”

My brows furrowed. “The Agreement between us ends after thirty days,” I said to his back. “You wrote that in there.”

He shook his head and started chuckling.

“The only thing that ends after thirty days is your desire to stay. Once you have your money, you’ll be gone.

Just like you just said.” He pushed himself off the truck and turned to lean his back against it, his arms and legs crossing.

“Trust me. I reread that contract over a hundred times, and nowhere in there does it say it has to end.”

My cheeks heated as he waited for an answer. When I stayed silent for too long, he started raising fingers with every point as he clarified, “Article One says it has to look real. Article Two says you’ll live under my roof for—”

“The duration…” I murmured.

He nodded, and continued, “Article Three says you get your money after thirty days. Article Four, you follow my rules and you get a safeword. And Article Five—”

“Consummation within thirty days,” I finished and swallowed. Hard.

He studied me, waiting to see what I’d do. Only problem was, not even I knew that.

“Was this all to trap me here?” Was what I came up with. I may have felt trapped in the beginning, but now…now it was like calling it that was just a lifeline to help explain this madness. To why he’d write something with such a big fucking loophole that I hadn’t considered it not ending.

The muscle ticking in his jaw gave me my answer before his fingers wrapped around my throat all over again. His lips brushed over mine. “You’re one to talk.” He released my throat and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the passenger side door of his truck.

“What are you doing?” He yanked the door open and lifted me into the seat, then buckled the seatbelt before I could settle my ass into the cushion. “Hey!” I shouted.

The door shut in my face, and then Car rounded the truck. When he got in, he double-checked my seatbelt.

“I think you secured it enough,” I grunted, smacking his hand away from me.

“Tell me what the fuck you’re doing.” Carver jammed his key in and cranked up the AC, aiming the vents all toward me.

“We can’t just leave my car here, and you can’t just tell me that this might not be ending in twenty-two days. ”

“Could you be pregnant right now, Ly?”

The question stole most words from my brain. “What?”

He turned to face me in his seat, forearm flexing as he gripped the steering wheel with one arm while he pointed at my stomach with the other.

“I came in you last night. Many times. So many times that you might not believe I’ve never fucking done that before in my life.

And you never once questioned it, or if you did, you didn’t voice that with your husband who you were going to still leave afterward. ”

I folded my arms over my chest. That’s what he meant when he said I was one to talk—he thought I was trapping him . I huffed at the thought, but when I didn’t immediately answer, he added, “I haven’t seen you take any birth control. You had nothing in your car, or purse, or fuckin’ anywhere.”

“You need to stop goin’ through my things.”

His jaw worked again. “Fine. You don’t wanna talk? I’ll force it from you.”

My body straightened, and like the traitorous little thing she’d become, my pussy clenched at the thought of what he’d do.

“And my car?” I repeated, watching the sedan fade from view.

He tapped on his phone screen. A deep voice filled the truck. “It’s a bit early for you, ain’t it?”

Hayes.

“I’m sending you an address. I need you to get the car from the lot and deliver it to my house in a week.”

I glared at the phone, and as I went to open my mouth, Carver shot his own look at me. My mouth snapped shut.

“Time?” Hayes asked.

Not a single why .

“Doesn’t matter. My wife will be there. Make sure the tank only has enough to go ten miles, at best.”

“Got it.” I waited for Hayes to question the ‘my wife’ part, but it never came. Of course, he knew already. “Anything else?”

What the fuck?

“You should have a few hours tomorrow morning, around ten.”

Hayes was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, it sounded less official and more relieved. “Thanks, Carver. Appreciate it.”

The call dropped, and my words went flying. “Ten miles? That’s what you’re giving me? What if I need something out of town? And in a week? You said if I go somewhere, I just need to tell you.”

Carver didn’t bat a single eye as he answered, “If you need to go somewhere, you will need to tell me because I’ll be the only one taking you.”

I crossed my arms and sank into the seat, counting down the minutes until we’d be back at the house. The air in the truck turned thick with silence, and as I watched his hands twist on the wheel, I knew whatever he was planning was going to break me.

That Carver-sized haze was still clouding my mind, wreaking havoc on my chest—as evidenced by the position he left me in.

He'd worked in silence as I glared at him, tying me up to four different ropes in the middle of his barn—a rope for each wrist, and one for each leg settling just above my boots. All were clipped to metal loops anchored to the wooden walls. With how short the ropes were, my legs were spread more than a foot apart, and my arms were lifted above my sides. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position to be in, but at least the fan above my head fought off the heat well enough.

Just as willing as I’d been last night, I let him leave me like this—for nearly ten minutes now.

The only thing he did before walking out was release both horses into the pasture. Guess whatever he had planned for me in this position wasn’t suitable for them to witness. In other words, I was fucked, probably both figuratively and literally.

He knew there’d be no fight. I’d left my fight—the little that’d remained—in the truck.

The contract I signed gave him this very allowance, and although I wasn’t the best at following rules, a bigger part of me took over when he was tying me up.

A more frightening part that I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I wanted to see him release a part of himself like he had on the porch. I wanted him to lose himself. To make me lose myself in him without fear. Just like how I agreed to be put into this position, he had agreed to drop everything and release me with a single word.

As fucked-up as it was, I trusted him.

I trusted Carver Roland with my life, and after last night, I believed it was more than my life I trusted him with. I only wished he’d let the past lie where it needed to lie—dead and never brought up again.